


some things that fly there be-

by tagalongcookies



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagalongcookies/pseuds/tagalongcookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They pretend as long as they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things that fly there be-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoinautumn (maybetwice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybetwice/gifts).



> disclaimer: title from emily dickinson, everything else from philip pullman. I’m just playing in his sandbox.
> 
> thanks to my beta, helenvalentine, who gave me great feedback and really helped me tighten up this fic. this story would not have been half as good without her, and of course all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> note to echoinautumn: When I first read your requests, I definitely would not have guessed that I would be writing this fic, but it just sort of happened! Also, I got to re-read this series as part of writing this and it was amazing. Anyway, I really hope you like it. Happy Yuletide, bb!

1.

Farder Coram grows up a gyptian. Gyptians spend their whole life in the fens, on boats, traveling canals and rivers with no regard for the borders of state and empire that fence in the subjects of the Church’s control. It’s a feckless and free existence, at least by comparison, but he still feels trapped. He doesn’t want to spend his whole life on the water. When he’s grown enough to satisfy his family, he convinces them to let him go.

His parents worry about whether he’ll be safe, out in a world that doesn’t like gyptians any more than fleas. His mother is particularly concerned; she thinks she’s done something wrong.

“He’ll come back,” his father says to his mother late one night, as Coram lies in the other room, fully packed. They’re dropping him off when they port at London. He can’t hear what his mother says to that, but he can hear his father’s response, his deep voice loud and carrying through the thin wood. “Boy’s got to find himself, but he’s gyptian by blood. You en’t got nothing to worry about. He can take care of himself.”

He doesn’t know where to go, first. It seems like the whole world is too big, too overwhelming to even know where to start and at the same time it seems like there can never be quite enough out there for him. His mother always said that he pushed the edges of an already-frayed world.

He spends some time at university, studying the books that he’d only ever seen worn, thrice-sold copies of at bazaars and learning about the sciences that had only been mentioned in passing by merchants. The gyptians had men of learning, but nothing like this. He immerses himself in the academic life, reading greedily and writing and researching. He never aspires to be a scholar--knows they’ll never let him, really, so it’s a moot point--and so he treasures every moment at school at the more.

Eventually the scholarship runs out and it’s time for him to move on, anyway. He’s restless. He tells himself that he doesn’t miss the water, and maybe he’s right, but it turns out to be the best, cheapest way of traveling. He paddles north in a small boat, chasing the Aurora and cooler pastures.

North is the farthest he’s ever been from gyptian life. Even at Oxford, he could go down to the docks and the markets and soak in the buzz of chatter and culture. In the Arctic, it’s just him, Sophonax and the edge of the world. He revels in the perpetually chilly winter air, the bright nights and the blazing sunsets. Every day brings something new and beautiful.

He never saw witches before, but one night he sees a handful of women whooping as they fly above him on pines branches, looping and twirling in the starlight. He’d always thought of witches as the spooky stereotype, the stars of ghost stories told around the boats, but now he’s intrigued. He’s never seen people happier to be alive.

“Can’t believe you ever believed those stories anyway,” Sophonax grumbles as she curls up, a warm weight on his lap. She loves the Arctic weather far more than the perpetual damp of the fen. Farder Coram supposes he should have guessed gyptian life might not be for him when his daemon settled as a cat, a species not known for being fond of the water.

She’s actually the one who spots Serafina first. It was a dim twilight and she always has better eyesight in the dark.

“Coram,” she says, jabbing him with her tail sharply. “Look up, quick.”

He sees a woman hurtling through the marsh, being pursued by a large bird, and he doesn't think twice. He shoots the bird clean through. The bird falls with a cry, and for a second he suspects it might have been a daemon. But that's rubbish, because he can't see its human anywhere.

He's given another shock when he cradles the woman in his boat and realizes she has no daemon. She seems healthy enough, though, once he bandages up her injuries and the bleeding stops. He gives her water and food from his pack.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is beautiful, vibrant.

Her face is gorgeous too, and really--well, she’s lovely all over. He tries to be a gentleman, but she can tell. She smiles at him gently, and he thinks to himself that he could fall in love with this woman.

He thinks maybe he already has.

2.

They return to the gyptians for the birth of his son. Serafina settles into life as a boat-wife with grace, as she does with all things. He knows that she misses her sisters, the Arctic air, the freedom to fly, but all the same she says she loves him more than any of those things. They both believe that the difficulties of being together are better than the pain of being apart.

He’s not sure that she knows what she wants, not really, but they are doing their best. Their son can’t really be raised with her clan, and here there is an overabundance of people who are willing to help them.

His mother greets them with shock and joy. She is old now, old enough to have moved on to his brother’s boat so she doesn’t have to run one of her own. She welcomes him and Serafina warmly.

This surprises Coram, because he’d expected that his mother would have regarded Serafina with the suspicion that gyptians usually reserve for witches.

“She likes me because she thinks I brought you back to her,” Serafina says one day. He’s in the kitchen, watching her make dinner. She’s chopping up onions and celery for some kind of gyptian dish that his sister gave her the recipe for. Apparently it used to be his favorite, although he can honestly say he does not remember. “She’d gotten used to the idea you were never coming back.”

“I didn’t mean for her to think that,” he protests. “I just. It never seemed like the right time.”

Serafina looks at him knowingly, knife gripped firmly in hand. “Funny that I’m the reason you are finally here.”

“Life is full of surprises,” he says, coming around behind her to press a kiss against her hair. She is warm against his lips. She used to say that she had to be, to survive up north.

Some evenings he can see her look longingly at the pine branch that she flew them there on. It was the last time she’s flown since their son was born.

Finally, she asks him to store her pine branch in a cupboard. She doesn’t need a constant reminder of what she’s given up for him. He doesn’t mind. It’s probably better that he’s not reminded of that either.

3.

The death of their son changes everything.

Their life together hadn’t been perfect, with the constant reminders of Serafina’s past as well as Coram’s impatience with gyptian life. Neither of them are really cut out to be there. Still, they had a future together, something that they were creating together. Their son overshadows all of the little imperfections that reminded them that they didn’t quite fit, smooths them out and makes them manageable.

Their two decades with their boy pass in the blink of an eye and yet it seemed to stretch into eternity. Every day is a joy as he grows and changes, giving constant delight to Serafina and instilling a father’s pride in Coram.

“I’d never expected I could be quite this happy,” Serafina says to him one day, as they watch their son catch his very first fish. “I thought I could travel the world a dozen times over and never feel as satisfied as this.”

And Coram smiles, because he feels exactly the same.

And yet their son is also the product of his parents, as children tend to be. He had always known of their other natures, their unspoken desires and their dreams. Just because Serafina most wanted to be with Coram didn’t mean she didn’t also want to be in the Arctic; it only meant that it had been ranked lower in her heart. United in their love for their son, they push aside their other concerns to care for him unconditionally.

And so their son also learns from them what it is like to have another side, to be restless and dream larger than his birthplace. And so he wanders the towns and the markets that they pass, even when it isn’t safe, because he feels he could never be contained by the boat that his parents made his home.

It is there that he catches the disease that takes his life.

With their son gone, time lays bare all those tiny imperfections in his parents’ relationship and cracks them wide open. They don’t fight, but they are unhappy in a way they haven’t been since Serafina came to the boats.

She cannot unmake her nature any more than Coram can change his. No matter what she does, Kaisa will always be able to fly far from her, and he will never be able to ride a pine branch unless it is at her side.

When she finally leaves, he does not ask her to stay. He can’t. He’s taken too much from her already. She doesn’t deserve a hundred years watching her formerly young and vigorous lover turn gray and slow. He will survive without her.

4.

John Faa has always asked a lot of him and he is not a man prone to apologizing for it. It’s strange, then, when he approaches Coram with a reluctant expression on his face.

“I hate to ask you to do this, but I don’t see any alternative,” Lord Faa tells him. “I think you’re going to have to contact Serafina. We need the help of the witches on our journey north.”

Farder Coram nods. “I understand,” he says. “That can be arranged.”

He’s not a man who shies away from responsibility or difficult situations. He’s become a man of stature in the gyptian community for a reason. Still, just this once he wishes he could stay home and hide. Serafina has seen him since she’s left, knows he’s aged, but not like this. He’s an old man now.

All through his meeting with Dr. Lanselius, he’s very conscious of what he must think of him. It is not uncommon for witches to bear children for their male lovers, but it rarely lasts. He knows that Dr. Lanselius knows of him; Serafina’s status in her clan alone would have made him news enough. He hates to think of himself as just another lover, for Serafina, because she was the only one for him. Or at least, the only one that ever mattered.

Dr. Lanselius tells him of the witches’ words, that Lyra’s destiny is to save them all without even knowing. When he tells the consul that he doesn’t understand, he’s being perfectly honest. Lyra seems an exceptionally bright, blessed child, but saviors have always seemed conscious of their duty and burden. He can’t see how she could save them all without even trying.

Several days later, he goes with John Faa to try to retrieve Iorek Byrnison’s armor. While he’s gone, Lyra goes on her own to Iorek’s workplace to convince him to work for them.

When he sees them together, he realizes that Lyra’s strength is in her own naivete. She does not understand the dangers and consequences of her actions and so she disregards them. This frees her, allowing her to be completely fearless. Combined with her headstrong nature, this fearlessness leaves her charging down the path of her destiny.

He can only hope that she will survive it.

5.

He’s old now and this trip will be his last. His younger self would have reveled in the idea that one could tear windows in the fabric of the universe and cross through to other worlds and endless new lands. His older self, full of wisdom and cynicism and sadness, is ready to rest.

He knows he’s changed.

Serafina has changed too. She looks as young and as beautiful as ever as she leads them to the world of the mulefa, but he can see the weight of age on her too. In her lifetime, she’s seen even more than the average witch could ever have imagined.

She comes to him on that last night before she guides Lyra through the city. They eat together in the quiet hours of the evening. Despite the large numbers of people gathered together, the mood is subdued and the conversation never rises above a quiet hum.

“When I went to Dr. Lanselius to contact you, he said that witches believed that Lyra had a special destiny,” he says. “He never explained what it was. Can you tell me, did she fulfill it?”

Serafina smiles, but it is filled with sadness. “I think she will,” she says. “But there is still time.”

“Is the choice to leave? To return to our world, and leave Will here?”

She nods. “It is hard for her, and Will even more. They would both suffer so much for each other, but they also want each other to be happy.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“It is the way of love. Humans are not like bears, whose habitat is natural and set,” she says. “It is easy for a human to play at being in another world for a while. The temptation is stronger.”

They played too long, he thinks. They let themselves believe it was possible. He’s never been able to forget. He’s spent his whole life dreaming of the what-ifs, even if he’d like to think otherwise. What if Serafina hadn’t been born a clan queen, what if she’d been born on the boats, what if their son had lived. What if he’d tried harder to convince her to stay. What if she’d listened. Would it even have mattered, if they wouldn’t have been happy?

He looks over at Lyra and Will. They are eating together, their daemons intertwined. He does not think they even notice that their own limbs are overlapping, too, having become extensions of each other in the way that people in the deepest love do. “I hope, for their sake, that they are able to move on. It was not something ever I ever managed to do but if anybody can, it would be Lyra. She is headstrong beyond all belief.”

“Oh, Coram,” Serafina says. Her voice is worn and sad. She moves closer to him and tucks her head on his frail shoulder. “I always wished--” She falls silent. Wishes aren’t enough, they never have been. They sit together for a few minutes, bodies warming each other in the cool evening. Finally Serafina stands up, brushes herself off, and begins to pack up their supplies.

“This might be the last time I see you before I pass,” he says. She’ll leave here in a few hours and the gyptians depart not long after.

Serafina’s eyes are bright with tears, but she nods. “You know your death, then?”

“An old friend,” he says. “He’s been waiting for me for some time now. I will not make the final journey alone.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, then another, and another, until her skin is damp. “I will always love you,” she says. He longs to move closer to her, dry her cheeks, make her smile. He’s never wanted anything more than for her to be happy. “I never stopped.”

“Me too,” he says. It’s a painful admission. His whole life, he’d tried to move on. His sister tried to convince him to take a new wife, raise a new family, but he’d never said yes. All of the gyptians knew that Farder Coram planned to grow old alone. “Me too, Serafina.”

She leans down, cups a hand to his cheek, kisses him briefly. “When Yambe Akka comes for me,” she says. “I’ll find you.”

They look over to the grove, where the only remaining hole in the universe remains. He knows it could be hundreds of years without her, waiting. He also knows that when she finally joins him, none of that will matter.


End file.
